


Bonding Over Video Games

by DayStar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayStar/pseuds/DayStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wants to hang out with Derek, but the werewolf is a bit reluctant. What better way to entice him than to challenge him to a video game showdown?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonding Over Video Games

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be funny but then emotion sat on my keyboard and now I don't even know.

"What are you doing?"

Stiles looks up from the tangle of wires and cocks an eyebrow at the question. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asks, playfully swinging one of the cords at Derek. The Alpha doesn't move, and the cord misses him by at least a foot.

"Being an idiot." Though Derek's reply is flat, the very fact that he's still there is very encouraging. It has taken Stiles the better part of two hours of nagging, begging and being a general nuisance to get him to come over, and it will be a shame if he decides to up and leave now. His father isn't around - he's going to another town to consult with another sheriff about something - so it's not like Derek needs to be worried about being found out. _No,_ Stiles thinks, grinning, _he just needs to worry about his ass getting kicked._

Reeling in the cord that he'd unsuccessfully thrown at the werewolf, the slender teen chooses not to answer; it will annoy Derek to no end. It takes him several more minutes, but eventually Stiles has untangled enough cable. He scrambles on his hands and knees to the back of the TV, pulling out the Nintendo 64 that has been stored there for a long, long time. A moment later, everything is set up, and he stands up, two controllers in his hand and a smile on his face. Derek looks… mystified. He was clearly not expecting this.

Proffering the black controller to Derek, Stiles asks, "So, you ready?"

The Alpha's grey eyes move from the controller to Stiles, narrowing slightly as they come to rest on his purposefully innocent expression. Stiles feels his breath catch in his throat, but he ignores it; he's more or less accepted that it isn't going to happen. Which doesn't mean he's above trying to hang around Derek whenever possible. If Derek notices anything, he also ignores it, instead addressing the more present problem.

"What the hell is that?"

Stiles' eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open. With strangled sarcasm, he replies, "It's an explosive device… whatdya think it is?"

His upper lip raises slightly, a hint of a snarl playing about his mouth. "I see that it's a controller Stiles. What makes you think I want to play Mario Party with you?" Derek turns away, the gesture indicating his impatience, and Stiles hurries to correct the assumption.

"Dude, I wouldn't ask a freaking werewolf to play _Mario Party_ with me. Do I look like a child?" He snorts indignantly. "No, this game is much, much more intense than that. We're playing Smash Bros."

The Alpha is unimpressed. "You can play with yourself, if you want," he says, and Stiles has to force himself not to blush at his immediate impulse to respond, _I'd rather play with you_. It isn't cool to be thinking about stuff like that when Derek is in the same room; he can probably, like, detect the increase in his heart rate or something. _Now that would be embarrassing._

Instead of saying something that would make an elephant crash into the room, the teen uses his trump card, the one thing that is absolutely sure to make Derek stay. "What, are you scared you can't beat me? Big strong werewolf, and you're afraid of being obliterated by little old me? Huh? Chicken? Is that it?" He's even prepared to start making clucking noises, but it doesn't come to that. The werewolf doesn't let it.

"Look, I'm not afraid of you beating me. I have amazing reflexes, remember? I could own you at that stupid game."

"Prove it."

Stiles watches the way that Derek sets his jaw, and knows that he's staying. With a triumphant grin he tosses the controller to Derek, taking the red one for himself, and sprawls on the couch after turning the TV and Nintendo on. His opponent remains standing. The usual credit scene turns on, and Stiles button mashes past it, choosing VS and then… "Ten lives, you think?" Pulling at his white T-shirt with one hand, the controller held in the other, Derek shrugs.

"Ten lives it is." He chooses Pikachu, his favorite, and notices that his opponent is hesitating over the choices. Like, really hesitating. In a "what the hell is all this" kind of way. Eventually, he settles for Link - _poor choice -_ and Stiles randomizes the stage. They're given the Kirby one, and as the countdown starts, Stiles clutches at his controller, preparing for the most epic Nintendo battle of his life. Three, two, one…

Derek sucks. There's really no other way to say it. He clearly has no idea what he's doing, and though he's a fast learner, it isn't anywhere near enough to compensate for the days Stiles has put into playing this game. Stiles doesn't even need to kill off all of his lives; Link twirls himself off the edge once, and falls to his death when a cloud disappears beneath his feet. It's really, really sad. When Pikachu chucks him off the platform for the last time, and the game is done, he has ten lives to Derek's zero.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the screen filled with a gloating Pikachu and accompanied by the mechanical sound of cheering. Stiles is shocked. He almost doesn't know what to say. "Wow. That was unexpec-"

"Shut up." Derek chucks the controller on the couch, probably with more force than necessary, considering it bounces off and hits the floor with a crash a meter away. Stiles thinks he's going to storm out, and he does take a few steps towards the door, but then stops. "Look, don't get smug about this," Derek growls. "I've never played a video game before, so -"

"You've never played Smash Bros? Who the heck hasn't played a video game before?" Stiles twists on the couch to get a better look at the Alpha. He's snagged his leather jacket off the back of a chair and stands ill at ease, shifting on his feet. His eyes are cast anywhere but the teen on the couch, and Derek is clearly eager to let the conversation just drop. Stiles is having none of that, though. His curiosity is drawn more from the uncomfortable, flinty vibe that Derek is broadcasting than anything else.

"Well?" he presses. "Did you just not own one?"

The snarl is back on the werewolf's face, but it is defensive, not impatient. "Our Alpha didn't approve of that stuff, ok? They thought teaching us stuff about being a werewolf, about surviving, was just a bit more important than _video games._ "

As understanding dawns, Stiles tentatively suggests, "But at a friend's house…?"

Derek shakes his head, abruptly looking exhausted. "What friend, Stiles? I had my pack, my family. That was all I needed."

_And now they're gone._ The statement is unspoken, but it hangs in the air nonetheless, painted eloquently by the tension in the corners of Derek's eyes, the way he's distractedly running a hand through his brown hair. Stiles feels a tightness in his own chest in response, sympathy pushing him to rise from the couch and cautiously approach. Derek's stance changes. He turns, his back partially exposed, a solid, tense wall put between the two of them. Stiles considers it for a second, but in a moment of reckless courage, disregards the implicit warning.

He takes a step closer. "Derek, I didn't mean to bring that up. I'm sor-"

All at once, Derek is a foot from him, haggard face cold and sharp. "I don't need your sympathy," the werewolf says roughly. "You don't know anything about it."

And that is several different kinds of annoying. His cheeks reddening, Stiles replies heatedly. "I don't know anything? Derek, my mom is dead. I don't have any other family besides my dad. I know something about it." In his anger, he's leaning forward, dark eyes catching Derek's washed out ones. The Alpha doesn't break the contact, and Stiles finds his breath catching again.

For his part, Derek looks stricken. Either he doesn't know about Stiles' mom, or he forgot. In a voice that has gone hoarse with emotion, he rasps, "I… Sorry. It's just… They're gone, ok? I've accepted it. Talking about it isn't going to help."

"You're wrong." Earnestly Stiles grabs Derek's wrist, ignoring the tension that tautens his muscular forearm. "Talking will help, Derek. It doesn - well, maybe not to me, but you're not alone, ok? There's Scott, and Isaac… hell, Peter is sorta in the same place as you. I know that we're not really friends," God, it hurt to say that, "but we're still part of the same group. The same pack, I guess. You can talk to any of us, we wanna help you and-" He's totally rambling now, and is almost grateful when Derek interrupts once again.

"Not friends, huh?" He's drawn back a little, a calculating expression crossing his face and then gone, to be replaced by something softer. "You really are an idiot. And talking _won't_ help. But something else…" Derek breaks Stiles' hold on his wrist in one brusque motion. Disappointed, the teen prepares himself for the Alpha's imminent departure. Only it doesn't come.

Derek places his freed hand on Stiles' shoulder, slowly draws it up and to the back of his neck, holding it in a light grip. "Did you really forget that I'm a werewolf?" Derek asks softly. "I can hear heartbeats, remember? That makes it a bit obvious." Stiles doesn't need to ask what 'it' is. He flushes, fervently hoping that the werewolf will just let it go and not make this into a mocking joke. Something else entirely happens.

With a lopsided, fragmented smile, Derek says, "Talking won't help, but something else might." And he pulls Stiles forward, roughly pressing his lips against Stiles' own, and it doesn't take long for the teen to blunder past his shock and respond, one hand catching Derek's, the other encircling his waist and pulling him closer. The Alpha's mouth is hot and firm, the fingers pressed into the back of Stiles' neck strong and certain. The kiss is everything that he's imagined that it might be, and maybe even a little better. Eventually they break apart, and Stiles might be panting, but the other is definitely out of breath too.

Derek has closed his eyes, but they come open and slide past Stiles to fall on the TV screen, which hasn't been turned off and still shows the victorious Pikachu. He pulls away from Stiles, walks around the couch and turns the TV off. "Stupid video game," Derek mutters, but the grin on his face is nothing short of breathtaking. He grabs Stiles and asks, "Now, where were we?"                     


End file.
